


My Bloody Valentine

by Kifujin Kitade (KifujinKitade)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:41:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KifujinKitade/pseuds/Kifujin%20Kitade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damn me if that wasn't insane. But that name, Xanxus, that man, weren't those the symbol of all my desires and the theme of my life? I had hardly known anything apart from Xanxus, the castle, and again Xanxus. Those words were the plain truth, so was death. And slowly I was dying among white petals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bloody Valentine

My bloody Valentine

Far away, in a remote country lost among mounts and forest, there was an old castle. The huge building seemed to come out from the Middle Ages: set in a luxuriant valley, a river bordering it at the east – causing the sun's rays to glisten on the fresh water every morning God shall grant the inhabitants. A breathtaking sight indeed. Further away, one could spot darker hills which would cast dark shadows upon the entire vale, and mostly at sunset when the clock of the castle's church rang the angelus.

On the highest hill was built another older, tumbledown fortress which overhung was overhanging the all landscape. The second fortress was what was actually drawing the attention of the people's country.

At daybreak as at nightfall the fortress would always shed its tenebrous shade all over the valley. When the night came it was even worse: it almost seemed that the place was sending a murky aura, as if it was a living being – a monstrous, dreadful one. It had the result that passer-bys, newcomers as frequenters, crossed themselves when they had to traverse the vale.

Let's come back to the less gloomy building. At one of the castle's windows in particular you can have a full sight on the plain – river, wild field and hills on the background. It has a tiny bay-window which is leading to a rather ancient bedroom. In spite of the starting decay, the place is emitting an agreeable and restful impression. The wooden walls are painted in white so that the sunlight is more easily lighting the room up. In the middle of the room, in opposite side of the widow, there is a baldachin bed whose inside is hidden by damask curtains. And finally in front of the bed is hanging a huge portrait of a young, handsome, yet fairly angry man – though the paint is quite antique, even more than the rest of the room, and fading.

Currently the bedroom is still unoccupied. Let's just say that that place will soon be the witness of some weird and wonderful event.

Hence I shall display this uncommon tale to you.

 

A terrible night.

That day it rained. It was really raining cats and dogs since the day before. About seven in the evening, a horseman knocked relentlessly at the castle's portal.

'Open the gate!' The man cried desperately. 'For God's sake, open it now!'

'What is it?' After some time a sentinel showed.

'That is awful!' The horseman answered. 'There was blood everywhere, everywhere! I think they met some brigands on their way or… some monstrous beast… I know not… But this one is still alive!'

The horseman showed a terribly wounded man on his back. A huge coat was sheltering both of them from the pitiless rain.

'Jesus! That's the lord's son!' The sentinel yelled when he saw the bloody figure. Right after the gate opened up, freeing the horseman to come in.

A crowd was waiting for them. The injured man – a still young, handsome man with raven locks stuck to his forehead because of the rainwater – was straightaway brought in an empty room where some maids were to take care of him. As for the horseman, he was brought to a drawing-room where he drought himself near a lightened up chimney.

The whole house was up because of the ruckus. Very quickly the news of the landlord's son being wounded to death crossed the castle. A doctor had been called from the next village, but because of the deluge and the remote place he surely wouldn't arrive before the horrible hour. Some people undeniably had little knowledge in medicine and surgery, but it wasn't enough: the lord's son's injuries were numerous and had reached vital organs; nobody wanted to risk themselves in killing the raven while trying to save him. Only doctors are forgiven for such mistakes.

One person particularly was alarmed by the son's state. It was a silver haired man who was about the same age as the raven and whose attractiveness was matching his, with hair passed his waist and ferric eyes denoting a deep worry. Just like everyone else, he hadn't have time to dress himself suitably for the serious occasion; his mane even still have had tufts strangely entangled on his head. Though it wasn't as if anyone would care about that detail.

When the silverette arrived in the patient's room, the place was already packed with at least the half of the castle's population. He had to elbow his way in to get to the raven.

'Vooi! Get out from my way!' The silver haired man shouted at the onlookers. 'Where is he? Where's Xanxus?'

He paused and some of the onlookers could almost swear that he paled at the bloody and measly sight in front of him. His voice was nowhere to be found, trapped in his throat, as his eyes widened with a mix of anger and disbelief. Fortunately for him the crowd had the presence of mind to leave the already blood-stinking room, leaving the silverette immovable on his spot. Only three maids and a black haired teenager still were in.

'Squalo…' The teenager tried to lay a hand on the long haired man's shoulder. 'Maybe you should leave too…'

He suddenly grabbed painfully the varlet's hand, eyebrows viciously frowned. 'Yamamoto. Since when are you here?'

The teen started. 'Um. Maybe one year? Why?'

Squalo watched the maids bustling about the bleeding raven on the stained bed. His breath was ragged, his chest barely heaving.

'Because you should know that I have no order to receive from you, brat.' Squalo advanced to the patient, throwing back Yamamoto's hand on his path. Then, to one of the maid 'Voi, you can do something about it, don't you?'

The woman looked embarrassed. 'This is, Master Squalo… He had lost a lot of blood… And we don't have enough…'

'Vooi!' the silver haired man suddenly yelled, threatening the poor maids. 'I didn't ask about damn details! Just manage to keep him alive until the doctor's arrival or I swear by my sword I'll bury you alive with him!'

'Calm down, please!' The teenager besought. 'You can see they're doing their best! But it's just like you see… He's already…'

'Keep your mouth shut, you damn brat.' Squalo hissed and violently hit a nearby table, the lamp on it fell down. For one second the light flickered, deforming the silverette's features. 'That man can't… Xanxus just can't…'

Suddenly the door burst open. Two men appeared in the embrasure.

'What's wrong? Master Squalo, you just screamed…' The first one said, but he quieted when he noticed the tense atmosphere.

A moment of awkward silence, then a shout from the outside.

'The doctor is here! Lead him to Master Xanxus!'

One minute after the surgeon came. In spite of what everybody told him, Squalo insisted on staying in the room during the operation, saying that he would help with the maids. However, that night it was no good them doing everything possible as human beings – but it hadn't been enough. For hours they ligatured, dressed, cauterized, disinfected, and wiped liters and liters of blood. They tried to stop the gush of blood from the open sores and wake the raven haired man up, but it was no use.

As he was cleaning Xanxus' face, Squalo noticed that he was presenting two little, almost invisible holes in his neck – something like insects bites. Since the wounds were nothing compared with the others on the rest of his body – those were simply awful, repelling, deadly cuts – he ignored them. The silver head couldn't help but sneer at the overuse of ether, the raven being more than surely unconscious. Neither could he hold back a shiver of fright when his hands met inadvertently an open lesion. It was only at the crack of dawn that the doctor considered the patient totally lost and took his leave, only advising the castle's inhabitants to bury the remains as soon as possible.

After him was the maids' turn. Squalo was the only one left with the body. He was sitting, or to be more precise sinking in a chair next to the bed. Slowly daylight was beginning to fill the room, hitting the man's tired eyes harshly. His arms were dangling on the armrests and obvious stains of blood were dirtying his clothes and skin.

Once more the door opened, but more softly than the previous time. Yamamoto came in.

'You're still awake?' He smiled gently, though his smile was marked with wretchedness.

Squalo looked at him. 'Mmh? Oh, sorry. I didn't notice when you went out.' He looked back at Xanxus. 'He's dead.'

Those words had been uttered with difficulty. The silverette frowned but at last got up from his seat. He tiredly stopped the teenager by a hand when he saw the young man approaching him.

'Call someone to take care of the body.' He said with a sigh and heading to the door. 'And after this, we have to tell the others too… And about the funerals… Ah, that's right. We have to find out what happened to the rest of the convoy… And also…'

But Squalo couldn't finish his sentence as, right after saying those words, he collapsed on the ground.

 

First fragment of memory – Squalo

That morning, I woke up covered in sweat. My bed's sheets were all crumpled and damp with sweat. I furrowed when I sensed sunlight in my eyes from my open window. Slowly, I brushed rebellious silver locks back, creasing the white cover on my knees. The morning air went in my room.

I clearly remembered collapsing in the other room, but after, I don't know who had brought me back there. However, whoever that could be, I was thankful.

Few hours earlier, I really wasn't able to do anything anymore. It was like all my strength had been pulled out by that night standing at Xanxus' bedside…

Xanxus.

How could that be possible? How could someone like him actually die? That's right; he's just human, just like each other of us… Though: he was Xanxus! That man was the embodiment of power and wrath. Such a being shouldn't end in such a… such a state!

I still shuddered remembering in which state his body had been brought back to the castle: it was as if he had had a death fight with some resident of a distant forest – in no way one of ours'. Just what kind of beast was that? I shook my head. Xanxus had made a long trip and I knew that possibilities were innumerable.

'Master? Are you awake?' A muffled voice resounded behind the door. I answered with a grunt. 'Should I bring your breakfast here or are you willing to take it in the living-room?'

How annoying, protocol. My hand rubbed at my drowsy eyes.

'Downstairs, Olga.'

Even if I didn't saw her, I guessed the maid bowed down before leaving. Her feet were making light sounds in the corridor.

Finally I got up… Only to met the immense portrait in front of my bed: a representation of the ancestor of the castle's landlord – thus Xanxus'. Before that day, I hadn't noticed how much the two were alike: the same face, the same ruby eyes, the same furrow, the same raven hair (though the portrait's was as long as mine while Xanxus' was pretty short). Then I remembered that the ancestor did die young. it made me ponder: was that in fact a kind of common fate of the descendants?

I had a quick wash and brush-up, putting the first shirt I found in my wardrobe, and went down.

When I arrived at the living-room, everyone had already sat down on table. I gave a nod to the everyday faces – the same that would constitute the breakfast, lunch and dinner assistance: Bianchi, the outlying cousin of the family, and Yamamoto. Everyone was wearing black and serious look, I was the one so badly dressed. A frown welcomed two faces I wasn't used to see, even if I knew one of them.

'Good morning, Squalo.' Dino Cavallone, a childhood friend of mine, greeted me with a sad smile. I was already half-fed up with those condolences. 'When I've heard about the tragedy, I came here straightaway. I thought you could need some help or whatever… How are you?'

'Fine. And I need not the entire country to worry about my condition.' I sat on my armchair. 'Who are you?'

The stranger smiled fondly at me. At his cassock, I guessed that the man was a priest.

'Only a poor minister of God who happened to pass by when he saw his fellows in dire need of help, too bad that my intervention hadn't at last been of any use…'

'Your name.' I frowned.

'Knuckles.' He half-bowed.

'Priest. I'll have you to tell me exactly everything you've been witnessed of when you found… when you found him. Worry not about the details.' I added when I saw his reluctant look.

The priest sighed. 'This is exactly what I've already said to your friends here. I was on a pilgrimage to the next town and I had to traverse the forest to arrive there. As I'm accustomed to long trip to unknown countries, I wasn't that afraid of crossing it in the dark. So I was progressing in the mid-night with the rain starting to pour on me, when I suddenly heard a desperate neigh. Hurriedly, I spurred my horse to go faster to the place where I presumed the sound has come from… That's when I saw that…'

He paled but I wanted him to get to the end of his story.

'Keep on.'

'Excuse me… The scene was so shocking… There he was lying, your friend, Master Xanxus I think you call him. He was bathing in a pool of blood, his horse lying one meter away. The poor animal was still conscious; the neigh had come from it. My legs were shaking while I was inspecting the surrounding to find anyone who could help me in a way or another… But it was worse than what I've expected: there were indeed people not that far from us, but… They were already dead… Maybe killed by some carnivorous beast, I know not. I came back to your friend. So happy was I when I heard him breathing, even slightly! Without thinking about anything else, I put him on my horse's back. I was aware of your castle being in the nearby; we didn't stop until we got here.'

The audience sighed. I broke the silence. 'However, I thank you for your inestimable assistance, priest. Now all we have to do is to go back to where you found Xanxus and verify the cadavers…'

'It's already done.' Yamamoto said. 'They were actually Xanxus' escort. Everyone was there.'

'…' I suppressed a snivel. Looking weak was no good for the moment. When I spoke, my voice was somehow cracked and cavernous. 'We have to make a proper grave for them too… Bianchi, you call the old Casimir. He is acquainted with what to do in this kind of circumstance. Yamamoto will go to the village and call on the notary … Or should I go with you? The old crutch is kind of a ruffian someday. For the funeral, Casimir should have…'

'Squalo!' Dino stated with an imperious tone I didn't know he had, and then with a more kind voice 'Let us deal with all this. You're obviously worn-out. Shall I call back the doctor? I'm sure he can give you something to make you sleep, or…'

'Know your place, Cavallone.' I hissed at Dino. 'This is a familial affair. You shouldn't even be here the first place.'

Unexpectedly he smiled at my obvious display of bad mood. 'I just wanted you to take care of yourself. You more than anyone is affected by Xanxus' death.'

I didn't want to hear that. Not that word. With a bitter taste on my tongue, I left the living and came back to my room.

Second fragment of memory – Squalo

The funeral had been quiet and cold. It was raining and the wind was chilly, the sky above our heads was grey and cloudy, as if it wanted to cry with the livings. We hadn't summoned many people for the event, and extra-guests would have just been an annoyance as much for me as for the deceased.

The ceremony took place in the castle's abbey. Truly, what a convenience to have a priest to hand. Knuckles said it didn't bother him to stay a bit longer with us; though he or anyone else didn't have much choice: the rain had made the roads impassable. However some close friends and family insisted on attending to the mortuary ceremony, and left right after for fear of a worsening of the storm.

For me, the funeral in itself went on slowly and painfully. It was stunning how much Xanxus, cleaned from all the blood and the torn clothes, and dressed with his most luxurious attire, looked handsome and peaceful in his coffin, amongst the white flowers (I didn't like them. Red flowers would far much suit Xanxus than anything else; maybe amaryllis, or chrysanthemum). More than during his whole lifetime. Only the ugly scars on his skins were the only deponents of his unusual assault. When it had been time to bury the wooden envelope, a pang clearly made itself known in my tired heart.

'Ah.' I thought unbelievingly whilst throwing a handful of clay on the gradually sinking coffin. 'This is really the last time I see you.'

It was weird. For years I hadn't lived one day without seeing the raven haired man; until that stupid day I decided he was big enough for not having me sticking with him for once. 'And now, they're burying him.'

I hid a tear. How stupid, doing something so stupid in front of Xanxus. He would have laughed at me, I was sure. But it couldn't be help: he was gone, he had left me, and he wouldn't come back anymore. Guilt, remorse and sadness were whirling in my brains. It was like I could hear abysmal cries of blame hovering upon me: "You're the one to blame; you're the only cause of this tragedy. why hadn't you done anything to prevent it?"

I bit at my lower lip. Yes, that's true. I had done nothing, and I plainly regretted it.

The only ones left in the castle were the same presents in the diner-room and the others servants.

Don't hush up a mistake. Take responsibility.

I think one week went by like this, a deluge outside the castle and a dismal mood inside. We were having supper in the huge diner-room, the old hearth's fire as only source of light and heat.

'My, Squalo, are you sure to be all right?' Bianchi smiled at me warmly. 'You look very pale, and you don't eat much…'

Don't touch me! Don't touch the heart! Don't show that face! I don't want to die… Some crazy voice would scream inside of my head sometimes.

'Voi. I'm fine.' I said. 'I just lack sleep.'

That was true. Since the funeral, I couldn't have a proper night of sleep. Repeated nightmares would always trouble my sleep. Some were so strong I could see them without sleeping actually. I was forced in enduring hours of unbearable horrors; otherwise I would stay awake in my bedroom, and listen to the sound of the rain hitting the roof.

All you living people? Can you still hear your heartbeats? Time rings the bells of the end; even your shelter decayed. In the end, your body returns to the sludge…

To make it short, I was in an awful need of sleep. Through the picture window we could see a lightning tearing the sky in two, tainting the entire room in white. Few time after thunder rumbled wickedly.

'The rain won't come to an end.' Dino stated. A truism more than anything as it had been like that for days.

Now, time points at death. There are no voices at the place you're leaving for. Only cold wind and the sound of pouring black rain; it's simply hopeless.

'It's truly an unpleasant weather.' Knuckles rubbed his hands together.

Yamamoto laughed harmlessly. 'And it can continue like this for days. When it became like that, we used to stay in the castle and never get out. That's pretty boring.'

I put back my fork and watched idly at the opening in the wall 'A pretty boring time, without a doubt.' then got up from the table and left by the main entrance.

That night, I didn't feel like staying with the others, nor getting back to my apartments. Thus I was walking absentmindedly in the long corridors of the castle.

They all had stained glass windows, so I still could glance at the storm outside: it was startling, in the same way as if God himself had imparted his wrath on earth. Slowing my pace, I grazed at the frames, thinking about how much that place would become lifeless without the raven.

Kill me. Kill me gently, my dear. You've killed me with such a beautiful smile.

I sighed and rubbed at my temples. Damn, I was so tired.

And there's no one anymore. No one… He returned to the mud… Sackgasse…

'What can't I pass those obnoxious feelings?' I whispered while watching with empty eyes at the colorful panes. 'Is it going to persist in this way until those damn days are over? ...Besides what's the point of continuing like this? My only reason of staying here was Xanxus… Now that's he's not here anymore…'

Those words had such an effect on me that my throat shrank. That time, I couldn't suppress the noiseless sobs coming out from my lips. It had been the first time I cried since ages, and the tears felt strangely wet and hot on my cold skin. My whole body was shaking uncontrollably, I had to sustain myself on the wall not to crouch on the ground and have a good cry like a little child – I was an adult, and moreover a man. If I hadn't burst shamelessly on the funeral, no way I was going to burst anytime soon.

Crying truly is something gross: all kind of human fluids can flow from your orifices, you have to look like the dumbest person on earth, and mostly you have to deal with an impending headache the minute after. But what is nice with it is that you can dwell on your sorrow and all your existence's disappointment. To a certain extent.

I stayed like that for about ten minutes, before standing up again, like any normal grown-up man, and came back to my room – the quickest I could; I had no desire to meet anyone with my teary face.

Once back I simply throw myself on the bed without removing my clothes. Strange, I thought as an unbelievable burden weighed on my eyelids, since when did I become that sluggish?

It didn't take me long to totally slumber.

 

Third fragment of memory – Squalo

Maybe it was due to all the tears I had cried, or maybe I was only too tired, because I was tranquil enough to be completely dead to the world. Since the start of all that mess, I had no time to rest as it should be. My shoulders hurt, my legs hurt and I was slowly but surely disconnecting myself with practical reality. So a night sleep wasn't unwelcome at all, quite the contrary.

The storm hushed a little, the castle was once more falling into its deadly stillness. For those who aren't familiar with it, it can be quite scary the first times; but with time it's easy to put up with.

I turned up on the cold sheets, my breath was more composed. Behind my closed eyelids, there was nothing but darkness and immobility. It was only after some time that the black turned into colors, and the void into a landscape I had already saw, years ago.

I also found my younger-self, hair and limbs much shorter. I was standing alone in a luxuriant meadow. Contrarily to today, the weather was great; it was hot and sunny, no cloud in the sky, a scent of spring was floating in the air. It seemed that I was waiting for something or for someone, an angry frown plastered on my features…

Then Xanxus appeared. More exactly his younger-self.

'Vooi, Xanxus! You're late!' I grinned at the raven boy.

'Shut it, scum. You've arrived way too early.' He fumed. That was Xanxus, I remembered, always angry for some unknown reason.

'Hunt is supposed to be done early in the morning, you idiot! It'll be your fault if we can't find anything anymore.'

I think I laughed in my sleep when I recalled that passage. That's true, it had actually happened. When we were younger and with less responsibilities, Xanxus and I always used to hunt in the nearby woods. However, I always was the one excited guy of the band; Xanxus was much more the grumpy one, still he always tagged along with me.

We've been like that since our teens. We've met through our fathers who were already good friends. When my parents died, Xanxus' father kindly asked me to stay at their castle. At first I refused. I wasn't going to beg pity. But then Xanxus vehemently told me to go to hell with my bloody pride, and to only stay with them, as looking for my dead body would be a bother, otherwise. Said that compassionately, I had to accept the kind proposition. After this, we became literally inseparable, the raven and I – which was at first a great surprise for the outsiders: they all bet on our respective bad temper to make us kill each other.

Rather the contrary, I can say that the years I spent with Xanxus had been the happiest, the most resplendent years of my life. It was of course except Xanxus' bossy mood. But I put up with it – it was actually more a matter of tolerating than suffering it. Well naturally, everyday hadn't been blossoming with flowers. Some day the tanned man could be so mad that I more than once feared for my life. But I went through, in spite of all.

When I asked him about why he kept on playing with me if I was so annoying, he would only hit me with the first thing he could lay his hand on. So I supposed it was because he had no other friends apart from me.

Back to the teenagers.

'If you keep on ranting about nonsense, we'll only lose our time here.' He said as he grabbed me by the arm, pulling me ahead and forcing my mount to follow him. After that I lost track of the teenagers.

'True, there had been good days like that' I smiled whilst sitting on the prairie's grass, before wholly lying on it, taking advantage of the rare sunrays. I know it's lame to smolder with the past, but, truth be said, I don't give a damn. I didn't want to use my lack of sleep as an excuse; I hadn't lowered myself to such abjection. Nevertheless harmless, kind memories like this weren't bad at all, from time to time…

'Who the hell are you?' The younger Xanxus' voice woke me up from my nap. The boy was crouching next to me, his inquiring red orbs fully meeting mine.

'Ah? You're talking to me?'

'Who do you want me to talk with, you stupid female?'

I glared at the Xanxus brat. 'Vooi. I'm not a woman.'

'So why do you have long hair? Only a female would have such long mane. Plus it looks ugly.' He said then began pulling unsympathetically at my hair. I muffled a cry of pain and instead tugged my locks back to me.

'Vooi, stupid brat! If you don't like it just go play somewhere else, you're annoying!'

'Huh? I'm annoying you, you say?'

I started. It hadn't been the younger raven boy's voice, but well and truly the older one's!

When the older's voice resounded, suddenly all the fluffy and kind background of my adolescence disappeared, replaced with a darker, more threatening atmosphere.

I swiftly turned to him: it was actually Xanxus, his bloody eyes, his annoyed face, his tanned skin strewed with scars which I assumed were from the assault. However somehow, there was something I couldn't frame about this one – I knew he was no longer alive, but it quite wasn't that.

I've always known a disdainful, contemptuous and haughty Xanxus. The one I was seeing looked… different. He was talking exactly the same way as the raven, behaving the same way as him… but yet it felt strange.

First, I wasn't comfortable with him invading my personal space. Furiously, I pushed him back.

'Yes, you are. You or your younger counterpart, whatever, you're annoying.'

He harshly grabbed at my hand – the one which was pushing him – and brought me closer. 'In what way, trash? Aren't you happy seeing me again?'

I paused. Once again, it's stupid. 'What are you talking about? What's the point of seeing you in a bloody dream, bastard? Let go of me.'

Xanxus didn't. Instead, he pulled me even closer until our faces were only two inches apart. That closeness wasn't good, I somehow reasoned, embarrassed. Or was I just losing my mind? During his lifetime the raven would have never allow me that close to him.

Nevertheless, it was a dream, and I didn't have a total control on what I was seeing, more correctly what I was doing.

'Why should I?' The raven asked almost innocently (in his own way), and – it nearly made my eyes pop from their socks – stroked my hair. 'This is pretty nice; furthermore you're not actually doing anything to stop me…'

He was right.

My brains shut down. I forgot on fighting back the raven and had brought my hands behind his neck, closing the distance between us. My whole body was moving, like a marionette, toward him, automatically, impulsively. My mind was elsewhere, plunging me in a half-euphoric, half-stupid state. I couldn't even process why on the earth was Xanxus' face was nearing mine so painfully, why I wasn't doing anything to immobilize him, or even what was that fire burning in me, urging me to meet the scarred man's skin so badly.

I kissed him fiercely and desperately. I could sense his tongue swapping licks with mine, fighting for dominance. Leisurely, his hands was trailing the curves of my face, stroking gently at my cheek, before going back to fondle at my hair.

It was intoxicating.

Pulling the raven closer to me, I tried to deepen the kiss. Clash of teeth, bruised lips, breath ragged and skin covered with sweat; I was losing myself. Xanxus pushed me down and trapped me between his arms. That was the first time in my life I felt so defenseless below his eyes, so naively willing to open myself to him.

'Do you still want me to go play somewhere else?' Xanxus mocked at me. He downed and licked my chin. I shivered. His lips went further down on my throat, and then the raven began to lap and bite softly at the sensitive skin. Feeling his spiky hair graze at me, all together with his wet appendage, was a foreign sensation. The heat was simply agonizing.

'Aa… Mm…'

Oh God. Was that truly my voice? How lewd. Though I couldn't do anything about it. Quite the opposite, I took hold of the scarred man's head and arched my body against his.

'Che. Slut. You're tastier than what I imagined.' Xanxus grunted, still licking on that particular spot. His hot breath was lingering on my neck, causing me to have goosebumps.

He peacefully unbuttoned the upper part of my shirt, his mouth still locked with my throat. That was when I felt them: two hard and sharp fangs skimming the wound-up surface. I glanced questioningly at him.

'Voi. Xanxus… What's… !'

At that moment a terrible pain struck me awake.

I was back in my bedroom and the rain had flood back.

'What the hell was that?' I cursed in my pillow, cheeks burning. I really didn't want to think about that dream. But then I noticed I was all damped. I look at the sheet: they were all wet with sweat. 'Damn.' I added when I glanced at my own clothes.

Fourth fragment of memory – Squalo

Dog's yelp could be heard next to me. Someone was shaking my arm.

'…Squalo? Squalo? Can you hear me?'

I finally woke up, all thanks to Dino. A deep growl came out from my gorge. It was an open secret that I had little sleep for the last days. Riding was only a pretext for me to go out and take advantage of the scarce sunlight, and eventually snooze against the first tree I could spot.

'Voi…What… What? Is something wrong?'

'Mmh. Nothing.' Dino looked at me worryingly. 'You were just having weird spasms. I was fretting.'

Blood went flooding in my cheeks. I would never tell anyone, not even my best friend, what sort of dream I had been having since that night. How many wet dreams did I have since then? How many hours of repentance when I finally woke up? And again how many hours being engulfed in those blissful reveries? I know I should feel ashamed of those kinds of feeling, but that was vain. Really, how a grown-up man could behave like this, I couldn't say. Slumping in those daydreams was simply a puerile, irresponsible and delusional act. I clearly understood that, yet…

Yet, I couldn't stop. Those dreams, as pernicious as they could be, were my only connection with the late raven. They were the only means I had to see him, to talk to him, to feel him once more…

No matter if those encountering would all the time turn into sexual harassments, in him kissing me until I was out of breath, maddening me, pushing me to my borderline. No matter if my absurd hallucinations would shatter all of what I supposed to know about the tanned man, or what I supposed to know about myself and my own feelings… Those ridiculous details had no meaning when I was in my musings, when I was feeling Xanxus' breath on my skin, his musk, his entire being melting with mine. It would be a total loss of time to try to describe how much I felt fulfill near him. And how desperate, how foolish was my delusion was only between Hell and me. A dream without any control, a deception with no harm to anyone; that would sum up my existence lately.

My imagination was making a madman of me. Nevertheless it brought me back a part of happiness I had lost.

Damn me if that wasn't insane. But that name, Xanxus, that man, weren't those the symbol of all my desires and the theme of my life? I had hardly known anything apart from Xanxus, the castle, and again Xanxus.

'You're imagining things.' I grunted.

A neigh resonated. That was Bianchi's mare. That day we decided to have lunch by the river to celebrate the first sunny day of the season. Lunch was brought by those still in the castle, while Dino and me were out since the sunrise. Now we were all sitting on the bank, basking in the still dull sun.

'Days like this should last forever.' Bianchi stretched her arms before pulling a sunshade. 'The weather is exquisite and the lunch delicious.'

'True. This is true, miss.' Knuckles took another sip of wine.

'Too bad that the water is still chilly, if not then bathing in would have been great.' Yamamoto chuckled. That brat is always laughing, that's bothersome.

'But you do have a barque, don't you?' Dino chimed happily. 'How about a short ride?'

The others approved unanimously. How exasperating; leave me alone already. I turned back to them and resumed my nap.

'And you, Squalo?' Knuckles' voice called out. 'Are you willing to follow us?'

A grunt was the only answer. Dino laughed.

'He's all right like this. It's already nice he accepted on only going out. So we're off, okay Squalo?'

I waved a hand to the supposedly leaving bunch, before plainly lying down on my drape.

That day was indeed a very nice day to doze outside, and with the others gone I could at last take advantage of my position, isolated from the noise by a weeping willow. From where I was sleeping I actually couldn't see anything from the castle. My peripheral vision was limited to the river and everything beyond: the blossoming plains, the pale sky and the dark stains of the hills on the horizon.

Everything was quiet and peaceful; not a sound excepted for the prairie's fauna, was troubling my rest; not a single movement betraying an undesirable intruder. For once since days I could rest myself without dreading any fantastic occurrence.

One hour went by like this, or maybe two or three – I lost the track of time. Once more the wind was getting cold and was blowing more threateningly in the trees' foliage. The coldness woke me up.

'Huh? Where are they all gone?' I said as I rubbed my eyes, looking for the others in the nearby. 'Hum. Maybe did they all go back home?' Seeing that no one was there anymore I decided on returning to the castle. I clearly remembered that at that precise moment the wind was blowing fiercer on my face, causing my unknotted hair to tousle everywhere.

I hurriedly went to my horse. The animal was agitated and pulling with jerky movements on his rope.

'Voi, boy. Why are you so nervous?' I patted on the animal's forehead and fondle on his withers while unfastening the cord from a close by tree. Suddenly, when I was half way detaching the horse, a violent rearing. It nearly sent me spinning away. 'Vooi! What's wrong with you, stupid?! What the hell are you afraid… of? ...'

But then I sensed something was wrong. Something was clearly wrong in that insane ambiance. It was quiet, way too quiet. And where the hell were the others? It was finally very weird that they didn't call me to go back. Truly, it was just like in one of my dreams. I couldn't control anything, I could barely interact with the surrounding…

But yet again, it was different. You know, when you're dreaming – unless if it's a really realistic one – you do know that what you see isn't real. As for me, I knew that my dreams were part of my hallucinations.

That's why I was aware of the fact that…

'This is… reality…'

However it didn't explain why the air felt so heavy and corrupted.

I looked at the spot from where I supposed my horse wanted to run away. In a bee line, it led me to scrutinize at the all plain, to peek further away at the horizon. At that moment my eyes met the old fort.

As always the old edifice was morbid; still it astonished me that the horse would even be afraid of it after all that time.

'What? You see there's nothing to panic at.' I yanked forcefully at the bridle and put a foot on the stirrup before lifting myself on the saddle. With that at least the animal was calmed. 'Stupid horse. Why did I pick that coward one from the others, I wonder…'

A squall moved me and my mount forward. One last time I glanced at the fortress, the hair on my neck instinctively rising at the sight of grey rocks and half-gone roof. I couldn't say why, maybe that was only an invention of my sickly mind, but it seemed that something had changed in the fort I knew since my childhood. Unknowingly I heaved a sigh of irritation and spurred at my horse.

'That's impossible…' I whispered as we were moving away from the gloomy citadel. Rain would be back that night too.

Fifth fragment of memory – Squalo

It actually was raining in buckets. Seems like that unique day had been the only one in the year we would have sun. We were all gathering in the main room of the castle, as we would do from time to time during rainy evening. The fire in the hearth was crackling cheerfully, like it was happy not being alone for once. The diner had been copious and everyone had sunk in their armchair, warming up in the half-light, a fuming cup of tea next to each one.

'And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,

And no birds sing.' Dino suddenly declaimed.

'Voi, what the hell is that? Reminds me of some dread-bolted maggot-pie I've heard whining before they die, all miserable and filthy.' I said to the blonde. 'Seriously, where do you always find that kind of stuffs? Some stupid trick to scam some dim-witted girls again?'

They laughed, even Dino, a laugh that had a false ring.

'I'm not talking about that.' Dino blushed.

'He wasn't.' Bianchi supported him. 'That's just a poem.'

'This is Keats'. You know it's pretty popular nowadays.' Yamamoto stated between two giggles.

'How am I supposed to know about those maggots rambling here and there?' I yelled at the teen. 'And instead of reading some weird things from weird people, you practice, moron!'

'So this is true!' The priest marveled. 'You actually are a fencer! How is it that I hadn't seen you playing until now?'

I don't have time, I am too busy, my back hurts, I have too little patience for training now… Many pretexts flooded in my mind, so many that I didn't know which one to choose. My only chance was that Yamamoto – whether on purpose, whether by coincidence – Yamamoto wandered from the subject. One minute after we were talking about gossips from the town.

We kept on like this for few hours, and part from each other near midnight. They all left the room but me; Bianchi first, the priest and the boy next, and last one had been Dino. It was almost as if they didn't want to leave me alone. Who did they think I was? Some kind of mentally maniac? The saddest part of my life was that I wasn't crazy enough to completely giveaway to my mourning's grief, nor was I sensible enough to burst my brains with a good shot.

It would have been too simple like that.

Little by little, the stillness came back in the living-room. The only thing disturbing it was the infernal tic-tac of some invisible clock, all together with the crackling of the chimney. How quiet and gloomy the manor could be by night! My armchair was facing the fire-place so that I couldn't see anything from the room's entrance; but I somehow guessed shadows moving on my back. They were furtive and shapeless, and they made no sound as they paced on the dusty paving.

Oh, I wasn't scarred. I had seen and lived worse in my life than wandering ghost and haunted house – though of course it wasn't actually the case. And however I was planning on getting back to my bedroom, so I got up and left.

The corridors were nothing better than the living: all dark, cold and depressing. Those mazes were so long that throughout the day I could walk miles in without even knowing it. My feet were knocking heavily on the ground, and it seemed to me that their measure was beating with the clock… Still ticking, ticking, ticking…

My vision got blurred.

Quickly, I have to quickly go back to my apartments.

Finally I got there. That was strange. Why did I feel out of breath? Also my heart was racing, as if I've just run. And my eyelids were tickling.

I tossed my jacket and my boots at the other side of bedroom. Scarcely got the humor to unbutton my shirt and undress, I threw myself on the bed.

Yet after some time, I still couldn't find sleep. Gradually, my body was getting warmer, I didn't know why.

The heat was bit by bit flowing in my flesh. First it had started in my chest. An irrepressible burning, dreadful canicule; as if someone was printing some flaming iron on my heart. Seconds after the heat was propagating in my limbs, pooling in every holes that it could find.

For God's sake, what was happening to me?

I writhed on the sheets, slave of that scorching temperature that I was.

'Weird… Am I… sick?' I managed to mutter against my pillow.

But it wasn't the same kind of fever: more nail-biting, more forceful. I didn't notice it, but I was half-moaning in my delirium.

'Look at you, whore. How pathetic you are now.' A voice burst from nowhere, starting me. Ah, no. The voice in fact came from the balcony. I gathered all my strength to face at the stranger with a more or less decent look. Just who on earth could be there at that time of the night?

'Who… Who is there? Who are you?' My voice cracked, and I supposed that I almost moaned the sentence.

A dark form stood out in the moon light, setting aside the curtain in its way. My eyes focused on the newcomer, widening instinctively when they spotted on long legs, a high stature, spiky black hair entangled with red feathers. At first I thought that I was dreaming about the portrait inhabitant who had come down from its frame. That was wrong…

'Xanxus?...' The name came unconsciously. So that's what it was? Another dissolute dream?

'So you still do remember your master's name?' The callous voice asked. The only tone of it made me quiver impatiently.

It was in point of fact Xanxus who was striding leisurely to my licentious form. Just like how I saw him the last time (I mean in his coffin), he was wearing dark scars all over his skin. Apart from that, he was exactly the same as before – perhaps only his hair was differing; they were a bit longer and covering his forehead. I squirmed. Damn, I bit down on my lip, had it already been that intense?

'Xanxus…'

He sat down next to me. I wanted to raise from my position, and I fortunately could, but slowly, but atrociously and excruciatingly. I didn't see the raven stretching his arm to grab at my hair.

'Ow!...'

'Be quiet.' He brushed his nose on my earlobe. His red irises were gleaming in the night. '…Unless you want to stir up the all house.'

Xanxus came closer and left butterfly kisses on the nape of my neck. In the same time, his hands were, without any hurry, trailing on my neck, on my chest, on my waist and my hips. I leaned on him, grasping at his broad shoulders. It felt so nostalgic; contrarily to those dreams, it appeared so real…

'Who told you that it was not?'

'What?... It's not…'

'Yes, it is.'

The raven pushed me back on the bed. His glower was digging holes in my skin. What was that weird feeling building up in my stomach? My heart leapt into my mouth when he forcefully locked his lips with mine.

"This is way too realistic. I'm losing my mind…"

I gave back each caress, each kiss the scarred man gave to me, and they were countless. With no fear I saw him removing my clothes – and I was way too ecstatic to bother anyway.

"Too realistic, and yet, so dreamlike…"

My upper body was revealed, voraciously stroked and embraced by the raven. For one second only I perceived those blazing orbs…

Before I could see anything else, a horrific pain burst in my neck.

The bunch of friends, minus Squalo, was having a breakfast in the inside terrace, everyone sitting around a wooden table. The space was full of vegetation: as much exotic as local, the plants were growing freely on the ground and the wall. They were giving to an outsider the impression of being immersed in the deepest part of the Amazonia. The flagstones were clay-made; its brown color was somehow warming up the room. Outside, droplets of rain were crashing against the pane of the large bay.

'Don't you think that something has gone wrong lately?' Yamamoto declared out of the blue, obvious apprehension contracting his eyebrows. His companions put back their cups.

'What is it about?' The ginger woman asked.

'It's about that, isn't it?' Dino frowned as well. 'It has been like this for some time now; but I had no courage to talk about loud.'

'Well? Is that something that serious for you to show that face?' Knuckles laughed in an attempt of cooling down the two men. 'First, what's the matter?'

'Oh, I must beg your pardon, priest. This is right that you haven't been here for that long and you may not be aware of the subject of our concern …'

'Please, you should worry not, my son. As a minister of God I have to be acquainted with mortals' anxiety.'

The varlet shifted on his seat. 'This is about Squalo. He's, somehow, acting weird…' The teen started.

'And it has been like that since Xanxus' death.' Came Dino's conclusion.

'Now that you talk about it I kind of sensed it too.' Bianchi added.

'You see?'

Knuckles smiled bitterly. 'Is that so? I'm sorry to say that I didn't have enough talk with him. Actually the only times I got to see him was with you.'

'He's shutting himself in his room. That's where the problem lays.'

'Maybe is he tired? Shocks caused by a terrible loss can't be wiped away that easily.' The priest's eyes darkened.

'Anyway, it's quite bothersome.' Bianchi noted irritably. 'And he will never talk to us about what's really upsetting him. But I would say that what's truly annoying is his temper. Don't you think that he had become more short-tempered than before? I really can't put up with him lately.'

'Are you talking about yesterday's?...'

'Yes.' The woman was talking softly, but one could effortlessly discern the heated tone of her words. 'Should I give you a piece of advice, priest? Then refrain from talking about the late lord with Squalo. This topic is particularly delicate.'

'I'll take note of it. So is he still …'

The door suddenly slammed open, showing an angry silverette in the embrasure. The man was glaring, but it was with a great effort – an attempt of hiding an unintelligible embarrassment. When he came closer the others could spot clearly at the pallor of his face and the little attention he gave to his outfit (his tie had been brought very up on his neck, as if there was something he wanted to hide from view). The group greeted him.

'Aa. Good morning.' The silver head's voice was hollow, and he seemed to have difficulties in only breathing. He directly sank in an armchair and rubbed his eyes. 'Why is the sun so damn sparkly?...'

'You didn't have a good night?' Dino inquired. 'You're face is totally drawn.'

'Ah. A hellish night.' He grunted.

The garden became silent. It only looked as if Squalo's morning appearance was an act of good manners and nothing else. He didn't eat anything, he didn't talk anymore. He just sat there with his eyes close.

Half an hour later only did the brunch came to an end. Everyone left the patio. The long haired man and the teenager straggled behind.

Yamamoto was following Squalo to his room.

'Why are you following me?' the silver head sighed laboriously. 'Don't you have anything else to do than stalking your master?'

'Maybe I do' The teen smiled. 'But someone has to watch over said master from time to time.'

Squalo groaned. They were in front of his door.

'Brat. I don't care about it, and you also better not.'

'Squalo' The young's voice raised. 'I only wish for being your ally. What's wrong with that?'

It was hard to ignore the flame in his eyes as he said that. On the other hand, the silverette was more furious than usually; he only stepped to his room without listening to the boy. So when the latter tried to seize his arm, the valve restraining his anger popped. With a forgotten strength, he violently punched at the wall, one inch from Yamamoto's head. Ferric orbs were glaring at brown ones.

'What is wrong is that you're just a brat who knows nothing about anything. Who decreed that I have to give an account of anything to anyone in this damn castle? Go to hell, you dim-witted brat. Unless you have a death wish, I swear that, as pupil or as dog-food, there won't be many remnants of you.'

Squalo withdrew and headed to the door. In his way, the tie slightly slipped on his throat, but he rapidly realized it and brought it back to its previous position.

Yamamoto was glued on his place. What was contracting his young features wasn't fear; it was more alike to hesitation. Finally, he called at his master:

'Squalo! Why are you doing this? Xanxus is dead; and this can't be help… So why are you torturing yourself that way?...'

The silver haired man's door closed with a dry sound.

After their argument, Yamamoto couldn't stay still.

'Blast… Maybe I had gone too far.' He said as he was pacing up and down in the hallway. 'It's true; I have absolutely no right in interfering with his life… But!'

A cloud of unease was shading his forehead. The alien feeling on his face looked to mar ungracefully his juvenile and thoughtless appearance.

At diner, Dino asked him what had happened when they left both of them that morning, and if some regretful setback happened – which would have led to Squalo not showing up anymore. To that, the teen only shrugged and smiled with a naive air.

Before the diner would end, he pretexted some chores he had forgotten to do, and left, wishing everyone good evening. With a hurried pace, he climbed the stairs to Squalo's apartments – as a matter of fact, it was the second time that day. Arrived half-way, he paused.

'And if he really doesn't want to see me? I'll only upset him more by showing up to his room now…' He thought; however he resumed his path.

Probably under a rush of adrenaline, or only because of the young age which doesn't like to lose his time in unfruitful palavers, Yamamoto sped up. He had reached the entrance of the bedroom when he paused for the second time. But now with a rather disbelieving look.

Strange sounds were coming from behind the door. They were muffled because of the thick wood, yet they were with no doubt coming from the room. The teen advanced more slowly, giving an ear to what he could hear.

'Is there someone with him? But I'm sure everyone is still downstairs.'

As he was moving forward, the sounds became more precise – he found out why: the door was actually half-open, and light from the bedroom was filtering from the gap.

'Mmh… Aan… S-stop it!'

Yamamoto peeked through the opening. A deep blush came to his cheeks, and he backed a little, when he caught sight of his master lying half-naked on his bed, face contracted with sheer bliss, and someone else above him – a man, in all probability. But what had the most stuck his childlike view had been that how so lustful, how so lovely look that Squalo was making as the man above him was striking gently at his thighs, and deposing kisses on his throat.

The silverette was squirming almost painfully under the treatment. His hair was scattering everywhere on the immaculate sheets; that way it looked more beautiful than ever. Perfect legs were spreading wide, whilst strong arms were locking on the stranger's back. Yearn and want was darkening the swordsman's eyes; his swollen lips weren't expressing anything but craving, a trail of saliva drooling at the corner.

The other man went to lick on Squalo's shoulder.

'Ah!... Not… Not there… It's still…' The smaller man moaned voluptuously while grabbing at the pillow behind his head. At that moment, the teen almost fell on the ground, so much his legs couldn't support his weight.

'What on earth is that? How can Squalo can be so… so…'

So lewd? Because that was the exact look he was giving to the spectator.

The silverette's back was lift up, hence the taller man was completely dominating him from all his height.

'Voi. Not yet… not yet… Ngh! Xan-…'

That was when the stranger turned his head to the door. Yamamoto nearly cursed when he recognized his former lord within the features of the man.

'Xanxus!' He shouted while slamming the door open.

The two in the room started – Squalo honestly: he let go of the raven; Xanxus barely: he only turned to the intruder, his eyes burning with wrath.

'Yamamoto? What are you doing… Voi… What? What's this?' Squalo's eyes somehow lost of their longing. They were now asking the surrounding as if they had no idea what happened seconds earlier. Suddenly, they widened when they laid Xanxus; but Squalo said nothing.

'Trash. Look what you've done.' Xanxus said to the teen, who was staring in amazement at the incredible sight in front of him: the man they had just buried, Xanxus, was in front of him, all safe and sound, and looking as if was enjoying himself!

'What the devil… Why… Why are you…' Yamamoto stuttered. It was only then that other steps resounded in the corridor. They were getting closer.

'What's happening? Is something wrong?' Male voices shouted. Dino and Knuckles appeared, but they all silenced when they witnessed of Xanxus' well-state.

'Che. Looks like it's going to be bothersome.' Xanxus sneered when he saw the other undesirables. 'You'd better not forget our rendezvous, scum.' he added toward Squalo, his lascivious stare caressing the silver haired man. He was on the point of turning tail to the crowd, but at that moment a shoot resonated. A still fuming gun was found in Dino's fist. The blond was watching incredulously at Xanxus.

'What? I'm pretty sure I hit him!'

The scarred man discovered his chest. There was a small hole in the clothes; it had the same size as a bullet.

'You're talking about this, trash?' Xanxus smirked, baring his fangs, irises shining deep red like a wicked star that shimmers in darkness. He turned round and with a godlike – or rather a devil-like speed, he rushed to the balcony and jumped in the void.

The others ran after him, but with no success as they lost track of the raven. They all stayed agape, eyeing in vain in the night.

'It really was Xanxus… wasn't it?' Yamamoto asked.

'Damn me, but it was.' Dino answered then pulled his gun to sight, smiling bitterly. 'And he seems as fit as a fiddle.'

Knuckles chuckled nervously. 'It sure isn't a good omen when dead people start wandering freely outside their tombs.'

'Indeed.'

Then they suddenly remembered they were in Squalo's room. Just what have the silverette been doing until now?

Said man had recovered his thoughts and the half-part of his clothes, and was looking fiercely at the three men.

'Voi. Get out, you ratsbanes. Right now.' He all but said softly.

Bianchi was nibbling at her nails nervously. She couldn't find tranquility, even in the warmth of the living.

'How could you… All of you! Such a… a creature attacked one of us, and no one got to stop it! I cannot believe it! And moreover what I will not accept is the creature exhibiting Xanxus' face to accomplish his misdeeds.'

Just like the ginger, Dino was frowning, his digits tapping apprehensively on his armrest. 'You should sit down, first. Losing our nerves won't lead us to nothing good…'

'I'm sure it was Xanxus.' Yamamoto stated in a sinister way. 'Everything he said, the way he was moving, acting – you saw it too – that was Xanxus. No doubt about it.'

Bianchi sat next to the teen. They were making a circle facing the fire-place. Knuckles spoke,

'My brothers, I can't say exactly if what I saw before was truth or the product of confusion spread by some evil in my mind. But the fact is, we all saw it, and I doubt that we all hallucinated the same scene.'

The assistance nodded. The blonde raised.

'If it wasn't a hallucination, then what…?' The priest supported his stare.

'I wish I would never have to tell this to you since it's a terrible supposition. Sirs, I'm afraid that misfortune fell on this house. Have you ever heard about vampires?'

Sixth fragment of memory – Squalo

I didn't want to believe it. Yes, I saw it with my own eyes, but I didn't want to believe what my eyes were telling me.

There is no cure for death. Dead people will never come back. Ever.

I, by all accounts an adult, was supposed to know it. And yet I preferred hiding myself from the truth.

'Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.' I was clutching at my head.

After everyone left me in my room, I had to cool down and assess everything I understood that night. Up until that night, or more precisely until I observed my supposed-to-be daydreaming meddling with what I knew was reality, those strange things I had observe, those scenes where I saw the raven haired man moving in; all of them was for me an illusion caused by my damaged brain. But then reality hit me.

The misery I was in was almost laughable.

A slave bound by ties that cannot be sullied by anyone.

I was sprawling on my back on my bed, the same bed where I had those unpardonable encounters.

First, those were not dreams, at least the last one wasn't. Excusing myself by telling that everything had been a harmless dream was no good anymore.

'He had been there. He had been here. That was him, and also, at the same time that wasn't him…'

That wasn't him? No, that is wrong. I had lived with Xanxus long enough to say that the man I so admired, the only one to whom I endeavored to stay by his side, to whom I pledged faith, and the one who, night after night, stole my sleep and showed me that unexpected side of myself; both were the same man. They were Xanxus. That was Xanxus; that had been Xanxus and that would always be Xanxus.

'Voooi. Wait, wait. Now, I'm delirious. The man should be sleeping peacefully in his icy coffin by now. How stupid only to think about…'

I rose from the bed.

That rainy night, when they brought his wounded body back in the castle, I remembered there had been some weird stings on his neck… Could it be possible that?...

And what if that was true? What was I supposed to expect from him now? Those childish expectations… Embracing tormented thoughts, demanding what I don't own; that wasn't what I wished.

Hast thou even the resolution to accept reality?

'I fear. I'm terrified of knowing the answer.'

That was the truest true, that was why I didn't want to tell it. I was fed up with wandering between delusion and certainty. Those last days, Xanxus showed me a side of him I've never known until then… And I just was afraid of discovering that it would be finally a creation of my troubled mind. The words scorched my flesh: me? Afraid? What the hell. That wasn't matching with the image of the fearsome swordmaster.

I heaved a sigh of frustration. Whatever would have happened, the raven would always stay the same. Xanxus doesn't change. The only one who's expecting for what wasn't there was me. Xanxus, no matter what he had become, was exactly the same as before; it was foolish to believe that the man I've known would act that way with me. That's all. No more comment needed.

Afraid of rejection. Ye, poor soul, art terrified of knowing that the one thou hast fallen for is a mock.

Huh. That's a joke, only one's selfish way of looking at it. As for me I wasn't a child anymore. I could live with it, as Xanxus' ally, his friend, his one and only…

Lover?

Shut it.

Thou art yearning for it.

That's nonsense. You shouldn't mistake my devotion for love.

Thy entire life's wish. Putting a smiling face in front of that man, pledging thy life to him, secretly desiring him to hold thou the same way as he had done earlier.

I smirked. Enough to actually imagine him tormenting my peaceful life even after his death? How comical. Even talking to myself like that was hilarious. 'Next time I see him, I should bring flowers to him – or to his grave, suchlike. What do you think about nasturtiums? They're tiny and ugly. Just like babyish crushes.'

Goddamn. My mind was going wild. What was the signification of all that? Was I, just because of my desperate desire to see the raven, going to give credit to some villagers' tales?

'That's absurd! I, Superbi Squalo, will never…'

I will never surrender to weak emotions, so I wanted to yell. The sentence got stuck in my throat. For sure that wasn't what I wanted. That wasn't enough, damn it! And if truly some chances that he could come back…

If there's a chance? Didn't I just make it clear that in fact that chance showed itself? God. My head was going to burst. Time had never slipped so slowly for me.

In conclusion, on the double, I got up and looked for my mantle. I put it almost without thinking and got out. Damn the others if they heard me leave. Picking the fastest horse of the stable – and unfortunately the most coward, the same as the time before – I absconded in the starting rain.

That was what I should have done since the very beginning, how stupid I was!

Because if there was something to verify, wasn't the raven's sepulture the most logical place to begin with?

Seventh fragment of memory – Squalo

Because of a superstition of the founders of the castle, they had built the building with a church in it, but put the cemetery further away. Unlike the castle and everything put up by its nearby, the cemetery was way more depressing. In its first year, it might have been a rather nice place – as much as a cemetery could be. But today it was only a sad assemblage of craggy, grey tombstones in different shapes – some with a cross, some only huge blocks of rock – the whole parted few meters by bald trees and benches where no one would never want to sit on for fear of sitting there for eternity.

Luckily the rain hadn't last, and the moon was shining in the sky above again. That was a chance, because honestly I couldn't actually recall exactly where Xanxus had been buried, so there was no more option left for me but reading the name engraved on the stones. And what was odd with those old sanctuaries was that no matter whether the dead had been placed there, the day before or centuries ago, the tombstones would always give the impression of being there since immemorial times.

At last I found it. Goosebumps showed on my skin when I grazed at the marble.

It was only then that I remembered that I had nothing to open the grave with, and the gravedigger was nowhere to be seen. For some seconds I stood there stupidly, asking myself what to do. Vexed, I was on the brink of going back home; when I heard a flap of wings close to me. I sighed. A howl, I assumed. They weren't rare in the surrounding. My hand rested on the bridle. Slowly I was starting to wonder about my mental faculty, when I felt something nearing me.

'So you finally came.' The voice was very near, as a whisper in my ear. A pair of arms locked on my waist. 'You didn't lose your time.'

I turned back and glanced coldly at Xanxus. Barely two hours had elapsed since the bedroom's incident, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. It was perhaps due to the chilly air or the excessively murky aspect of the place, but I for once succeeded in keeping my cool in front of the raven.

'Hi, you damn bastard.' I greeted the scarred man. 'You look pretty healthy for someone who had just been shot in the heart.'

He leered. 'Very nearly. Tell your stupid friend to learn to shoot correctly, trash. You're leaving?' Xanxus asked when he saw me dragging my horse to the gate.

'Aa. It has been a stupid idea from the beginning to come here.'

And I was tired. It was like my back was weighing two tons.

'Why? What did you want to do? Crying on my tomb?'

I stared at him. Really, dead or alive, that man was such a hellish bastard…

'Try to guess it. Let me tell you only that it wasn't for whatever reason you thought I came.'

Xanxus quieted a little. I could guess from the frown he was putting that his brains were processing hellishly what I had just said. Next he brought his glance on the grave and laughed viciously.

'What, scum? You're meaning it? When I told you that you were a dumb trash!' He strode to the marble, 'If you wanted to do that, you should have said it earlier.' Then he kicked the grave open and plunged his hand in the ground. One second after he had pulled on a hook, presenting the coffin.

I half-shivered at the impious movement, but with a shrug of scorn I approached the violated monument.

'And now?' I eyed awkwardly at the shut wooden box.

Xanxus glared at me. 'Stupid piece of trash. Use your lame brains, now. You do have your sword with you, don't you?'

Indeed. I unsheathed the blade and started forcing the lock. In spite of my drowsiness, it easily unlocked. I bent down.

My heart was pounding, pounding, pounding so hard against my chest. Apart from the sacrilege I had committed and the others I was going to commit, there was a certain scruple about verifying my sanity by allowing such a dreadful act.

When he noticed that I wasn't moving anymore, Xanxus hooked his arm on my shoulders, pressing all his weight on me.

'What do you fear?' He muttered against my neck. 'Open it up, scum. Open it and see with your own eyes.'

I brought my shaking hands on the dark envelope; and with a throbbing exhaustion that I assumed was coming from the heaviness of the wood, I opened the coffin.

It was empty.

It took me some time to process what I was seeing. I palmed the inside of the box, looking for any clue to… I didn't even know what! One moment I first presumed that some brigands had stolen the body. That conclusion seemed to be implausible.

That was when I felt Xanxus' weight linger on me, more distressingly. He was stroking my hips with his gloved hands; however I could clearly feel the warmth of them. Xanxus' warmth was nice, I thought. How could someone with that warmth be dead? But like an answer to that stupid thought, he turned me over so that I was facing him. It had however resulted in me collapsing on the ground, with the grave's marble for only support for my aching back.

'Why are you doing this?' I asked, more relaxed than I expected.

'What? You're not asking if I'm the real one instead?'

I didn't answer. I only eyed emptily at him. Why still lying to myself again? It was tiring; I was fed up with lying. 'Only answer to that question.'

The raven grimaced. 'Humph. I'm not receiving orders from trashes.'

'Bastard. Then never mind.'

An unfathomable silence weighed on us. At that time, all I wanted to do was to sleep and forget everything about what had happened that day, the previous one, the one before…

'That's because I own you.' The raven finally stated. 'You're mine, and Heaven nor Hell shall impede my desires.'

What was that? I didn't remember him buying me or anything else. But I was too tired to protest. I only let him near me, come closer and closer, before deposing his carnivorous kiss on my throat.

Suddenly, when he put his lips on my cold skin and started digging his fangs in the weary flesh – that was the first time I clearly felt it, the last time I was too intoxicated to notice anything – when the blood begun to be sucked by the raven, they disappeared. The fear, the unease, the trouble in my mind; everything simply disappeared, washed away by a vision of bloody red.

'Aa… Ngh…'

Once in, the fangs actually didn't hurt at all. Honestly the strongest feeling I was having back then was a profound, infinite impression of delight. It was a poison, I understood that. But an addictive one: velvety, soft, and sweetish. Million of heavens melted up in one. At that moment, I could have give up on my humanity, on all the treasures on earth; I could have renounced to every promise, to every pleasure, every hope and desolation that still tied me to the ground.

Yes. At that time I was pretty crazy. I took hold of Xanxus' back, sinking my face into the man's dark mane, in vain wishing for that moment to last forever. The happiness of believers.

But it wasn't meant to be.

All of a sudden the scarred man released his grip on my waist after giving one last lick to the painful holes in my throat. I almost fell in the mud; my arms, my legs were void of strength. A chilly breeze went engulfing in my hair. Once more there was nothing else around me but stillness and coldness, and I couldn't even move from my dishonorable place on the dewy grass. Without being able to do anything, I watched through half-closed eyelids and silver locks the raven walking away from me. Again.

Eight fragment of memory – Squalo

They found me early in the morning, a bit before daybreak. Honestly the sanctuary was as ugly in the dark as in the light.

Shame on me, hours after Xanxus left me, I still was lying, half-unconscious half- stupefaction, on the ground. I saw hands picking me up, setting me gently on the back of my horse; there were faces smiling at me. Automatically I guessed that I knew them; or at least that they knew me – I wasn't and I am not philanthropic enough to believe in Good Samaritan.

I think that we rode for quite a long time – my horse wasn't allowed to run fast with me on his back.

'Do you think he's asleep?' A voice resounded.

'I don't think so. His eyes are open.' Another acknowledged.

'God. How in the world had he done to get here?'

The voices faded.

One minute later I was in my bedroom. At that part of the story, my brains were totally out, so you may not get more precise information about my state. Not like I care, though.

So let's just skip up to the afternoon.

Unusually, there was someone else – a living from the castle, at least – in the room. It was Dino.

The blonde had surely been staying there for hours, because when I woke up I spotted at his blond tufts next to me. They looked weirdly as if they were swaying. In truth he had fallen asleep in the next armchair, and that was his head which was dangling hazardously in his slumber. The blonde had been reading a book, it seemed as the volume was still open on his lap. I could read those lines: "as does the mighty ocean the most placid lake that ever basked in idleness beneath a summer's sun". How boring.

I tried to sit, with no success. All strength in my limbs was gone.

'Mmwha-…' Dino yawned wide awake when he heard me shift on my bed. 'You're awake? Did I importune you?'

I nodded negatively. 'Voi? Why are you here?'

He smiled and patted at my head. 'Don't make a fuss, Squalo. You're suffering from a serious blood loss. Rest a bit more; you may like it or not, but I'm not moving from here.'

Che. Damn idiot. He was talking as if he had figured out some important thing, putting that bloody knowing face of his. Younger he had been the total opposite of that, I recalled.

'By the way, are you thirsty?' He reached for a glass of water. 'You hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. I was worrying when I didn't see you waking up.'

He helped me sitting, pulling pillows behind my back, then gave me the glass. 'You're fussy. I'm no weakling.'

'You're no weakling…' He huffed. 'I've known you for years. You're not weak.'

Without a warning he pulled my arm forward. I nearly lost balance and fell down, if Dino didn't hold me back. The blonde was a natural-cheerfully person. He was overly nice, gentle and kindhearted, and only in rare days would he show his discontent. That day was precisely one of those.

'So what about this?' I grimaced as he gripped painfully at my arm. His shoulders were shaking when he talked. I was quite astonished to feel the incredible heat of his hand on me, but then I assumed that I was the freezing one. 'Squalo, this isn't you! You're barely the shadow of your shadow: your face, your eyes, your all-being… And when we found you in such a place, in the middle of nowhere… Do you have the slightest idea of how much we were worrying about you? Do you know how much I'm caring about you?' He clutched firmly at my hands. 'You're alive! We are all alive, Squalo. Never forget it.'

Those were beautiful words. Anyone would get confused after hearing that. What a pity, though, that I was half-cataleptic when he told them.

Pretending that his presence was disturbing my sleep, I demanded Dino to leave. Like a loyal vassal, he agreed silently.

I came down to my sheets again. They were cold; I found no rest. Someone had just bathed the blankets, but they still felt cold against my bare feet. That was strange, I thought. In an attempt of warming up, I covered myself.

That state, a normal human being should only traverse it once in its life. The slow and measured shutting down of each one of your organs, each one of your cells; the slowdown of the heartbeats, respiration, movements, reflexes and cerebral activities…

I was slowly but surely dying.

I look at the nocturne sky. 'Help me! Help me!'

They said that it was blood loss? Come on. I saw enough people die in my short life to be on familiar terms with agony – which I was passing through.

For some people that could last days, weeks, or months. In my case, it was a matter of hours before the curtain dropped. And oddly, I was aware of that, and accepting it quite easily. Denegation and isolation; wrath, rage, envy and resentment; culpability; nervous breakdown… They were all for those who want to put on airs. Let's say that I have never been the normal type, that's all. Whatsoever. Oh! Come what may. Once a man is born, he's old enough to die.

The only thing that tickled the back of my head was the fact that I was dying after Xanxus. All my life I've always believed that it would be the contrary. That may be pretty infuriating, although funny. You know, it's like those condemned person who are preparing themselves bravely for the last torture, who are putting such efforts in looking nicely on the scaffold, and who, by that time, are killed by the influenza.

Thy life shall pay for it.

However. I was waiting. How long had elapsed since Dino left? I couldn't tell. As a minimum, I could glimpse for a last time at a sky free of heavy clouds.

I shall play a tender timbre – a lullaby for ye.

A lullaby, you say? That would be a good idea. I don't like singing; I let that art for those who are fitted for it. But, after all, what could I lose?

In exchange for the sacrifice of my body, now, I shall offer this hymn. This is the hymn of all my life, the cry of my existence; the most beautiful screaming, a sweet orchestra of lament with a bitter flavor of despair. How do you like that, Xanxus?

Rest in peace, ye painful soul !

By the hell beneath us, that only cannot be. Well, you see I've not been namely a saint in my conscious life. Not like I was bothering either. I grinned.

'Damn, now I want to say one of those already-made sentences Dino would always blabber at anytime…' I frowned, gathering the last energy of my brains to put words, sentences, names together. I finally came with a quite pleasant one. 'This one should be good for a departure. And a nice farewell for all those wankers. What was it already… "For him I wept, for him I mourn'd – Paid all to friendship that was due; – But sadly friendship is return'd, – No pow'r on earth my life can save' – Tis fate's unalterable will!...'

'"Young Sigismund, my once dear friend, – But now my persecutor foul, – Doth his malevolence extend – E'en to the torture of my soul."' Xanxus' husky voice resounded from the balcony. I didn't even bother to look at him; his presence was no more something I had to be alarmed about. 'Trash, your tastes have worsened, more than I thought. People quoting poetry are just lost causes.'

'You're just the same as me, bastard.' I greeted him, smirk on my face.

Xanxus came in and sat on the chair which Dino had just left. He didn't seem as shocked as the blonde about my physical appearance. His hand came trailing on my jaw.

'You're pale.' he stated, the simplest way possible, before kissing me on my lips. 'And you're cold.'

I pulled my arms off of the bed and locked them behind the raven's neck. He fondled at them.

'It won't last long, worry not about it.' I kissed him back. 'Why did you come today?' And that early?

'No reason, specially. Maybe watching your ugly face once in a while. It's kind of entertaining, and I didn't feel like doing anything else anyway.'

My arms slightly slipped from his shoulders. The raven promptly brought them back on him. But it hadn't been enough to keep me awake as my eyelids seemed more and more heavy by each seconds. I tried to keep them open, because through my eyelashes I saw him glimmering with colors and in a reddish half-light, just like when you're looking at the sun.

'Xanxus…' I whispered.

'What, scum?'

'It had been great fun, being with you.'

And when I uttered those words, some astonishing event actually occurred: Xanxus, the always angry, fuming, grunting Xanxus, for once brightened up a little.

He rested his forehead against mine. The last vision I got that time was the raven's insupportably flaming orbs, faintly hidden by black locks, and his lips pronouncing something I wished I had heard.

And everything got black.

 

[/]

 

Last fragment of memory – Xanxus

Why was he to be able to do this to me? Humph. Only a simple trash from nowhere. It looks like a funny story.

I thought it would be funny to have some kind of human dog, an innocent entertainment for the adolescent I had been. They confided me a shark like pet instead. A loud-mouthed, good for nothing brat with almost white hair and way too grey eyes, and a boy above all.

Superbi Squalo.

What was I supposed to do with the idiot? He was younger and smaller than me. With only one blast he would fly away.

So I thought, but he didn't. On the contrary the trash was pretty tough and could never get tired of being beaten to death by me day after day. He kept on coming back, grinning like the bloody idiot he was. Seriously why did I have to deal with that raw-boned psychopath? That fool was making me lose my time with him, that's all.

I really have no idea how could we finally manage to tag along all those years. Squalo was the whiteness of a sword when I was the blackness of the powder. I was a constant boiling of rage and hatred; he was a glow of pride and patience. In a normal shaped world, we should have hated and destroyed each others.

'That's why this world is twisted.' I said as I was throwing petals of gardenia on the immobile form of the swordsman's body. He was already submerged by innumerable white flowers. Their tint was blending perfectly with the trash's pallid face and silver mane. My legs were carrying me from a spot to another of the main room of the old bastion. Pieces of glass were cracking under my feet.

He had been like that since I fetched him in his bedroom. Well, not exactly like that. Let's say that back then he was a bit more alive; enough to understand what I told him, at least.

Back then, therefore, the silver trash still was breathing in my arms. All softened and dizzy from all the blood I sucked from him, but relatively alive.

For some reason – namely the interruption of all of the scum's friends in his room – I didn't have the proper occasion to give the silver head the last blow. They all rushed in, sensing that the trash was in some sort of pinch or whatever. I didn't really care. The problem was that the low-life scums were interfering between me and my prey, and I didn't like that.

If it weren't for the shark trash soundly sleeping in my arms, I would have eviscerated all of them. But it would have also meant letting the other idiot fall from my arms, from the top of his balcony on the second floor, down in the nettles. Instead, I grasped firmly his lean waist and, like that, in one inhuman spring, we were off on the ground. It didn't take long to go out of sight of the inhabitants of my late father's castle.

Hell I didn't like that place. A castle in the middle of nowhere, although more sumptuous than most of those in the country, but totally isolated from the world. That wasn't the best means to fulfill my designs.

And I still would have been stuck to that rat's hole if it hadn't been for that beast I met in the woods.

In point of fact, that isn't worth talking over.

What I felt when I woke up, on the contrary, is.

Period.

I turned back. Didn't his head budged a little? Or was that my imagination? Shit, forget it.

"Ah? What the hell is this?" I know that isn't badass at all, but that's actually what I thought when I saw that wooden plank in front of me. It didn't take long for me to be passably pissed off because of my restraints. Fortunately a hard kick on it made the board move. One second after I was out. With mud on me.

Thinking that my life turned 180° was just… an overstatement.

Worthless trashes seemed to be as worthless as before, the useless worms that crawled on the ground were as noisy and irritating as before. Nothing changed. I was even about to go back home and tell the scums which buried me that they had been a bit/damn quick doing their job.

That was until I saw the dumb shark.

Something triggered in my head. I didn't know exactly what or why, but I did sense it. On that particular night when the image of Squalo came to my mind with no warning. It seemed that he was dreaming about me, the trash. I almost burst of laugh when I spotted at his discomfited face. I made me want to play him a prank.

The only hitch was my incredible talent of actor, because the shark took it rather seriously. So seriously that I myself got stuck in my role.

What a pain in the ass. Just because I am a good kisser (said humbly) didn't mean Squalo had to take me at my words.

And the problem was that I also took pleasure in that game. That part of the deal though wasn't welcome.

The way he sighed my name between two moans; the languorous lust printed in his ferric eyes; the way we would writhe under my touch… Thinking about him only would make my blood boil in my veins; so much that it was agonizing. Not even the most gorgeous women I had met during my lifetime had showed me such crave.

I smirked to the sleeping beauty. 'Hey? Did you hear me, trash? I've just said that you're a pretty good slut.' But he kept silent.

Damn it. I sighed and took a sit next to him. A strong, fruity scent was lingering in the air.

How did he do it? Really, what was he? A mage? A fairy? Or only a damn brat who I'd known way to long? And who cares? He was pissing me off and I wouldn't tolerate it. I was wandering how to make him regret something he maybe hadn't started – but that I didn't give a damn.

That was when I decided on making him mine. Completely, all of him: his loud mouth, his ugly sneer, his sinuous features, his smooth skin, his impossible, velvety hair. Everything.

Oneiric meetings had been sweet and impious. For me those were the best occasions to torment the silver shark. Oh, how much did the sight I got entice my eyes. Squalo was moaning, pleading, squirming; and that hadn't even required me to move to him. But sometime – every time for me – dreams can be more convincing than reality.

Instead of healing me from my thirst of the silver haired man, they, quite the opposite, made me seek for more; much more than what I could get from those surreal banquets of madness. We were only children driven crazy in golden imaginings on a scene soaked in lust.

I grazed at the sleeping Squalo's velvety cheek. My hand slowly went down before I dug my nails in his throat. Petals fell down on the dusty ground.

Yes, I wanted more. In reality, nothing nourished me. Those damn scenes just starved me more; they were killing me, and I had only one way to quench my desire.

One thing: making for where I knew the shark was; looking for his warmth, the perfect touch of his neck I, oh so many times, dreamt about. One thing: tearing down any hindrance – walls, people, clothes – until I got the crimson view. He was watching at me with expectation, believing that it was another dream; he didn't anything to stop me. One thing: brushing lovingly those silken locks; kissing ardently those thin, rosy lips; breathing each one of his sighs.

I wanted his blood and wanted him to give it to me, willingly or not; I wanted to test his cells, unconsciously. Everything was out of control.

At that time, Squalo was whimpering words of excitement I've never thought he would utter on day; and less probably to me: the sweetest depravity ever. My fingers still would tremble when thinking about them.

Damn trash. Even though his prettiness was matched by none (I admit it), this sweetness bound me to him for eternity, hurtfully. With his alluring body he lured me to him; with his fascinating moans, he trapped me in, embracing me in all desires.

I've held that body twice. The third should have been the last time…

I had just brought his weakened body to the fort where I had been staying since my "redemption". He was already departing this life. In the silvery moonlight, I watched with an abnormal interest his chest heaving up and down, slowly, and hardly.

It was only with a prodigious willpower that the silver head stood again on his bare feet. He somehow stood up, but needed to sustain himself on a disfigured armchair. From that spot he glanced at his reflect in a nearby full-length mirror. It looked like he didn't enjoy the sight since he frowned while closing his eyes.

"You're in a pitiful state." I noted.

"Who's fault?" He whispered. Everything he said after that never exceeded the level of a whisper.

I shrugged and neared the silver beauty. In some way, in the brink of death, his beauty was exploding with more fierceness. When I stretched my arm to grasp his neck, he backed a little. Like hell I would accept a rebellion from him at that time. I was one inch from making him totally mine; I wasn't going to stop so near from my goal, my hunger would have never allowed it. Swiftly, I hooked my hand at the back of his head, forcing him to clutch at me.

"Che. You selfish bastard."

I smirked. "I hadn't asked for your advice, stupid."

My body was burning, my blood thumping painfully on the skull. In that sacred moment, my mind could merely process one single idea: Come, it's time to rest; you don't have to do anything. So, I shall make you drown deeply, deeply, into the bottom of an indolent sleep. Words would whirl in my mind. Come on, while you are still warm I shall devour you. You shall become mine; you shall become a part of mine. I've been waiting to rip off both your wings, and trap you in my cage.

No will on earth could have stopped those thoughts. I realized I had to give up to them.

At a snail's pace, I brought my lips to touch lightly Squalo's neck. Two tiny red stains were already marring the ivory skin, giving proves of my previous assaults.

There wasn't much time left, yet it didn't matter. Seeing him that close and in an unusual stillness, it absolutely didn't matter. The instant was grave and solemn. With the shark, moments like that were rare.

Just like a shroud, I wrapped the shark with my stare. He was perfect at the moment. His skin usually pinky and smooth was now a bit more pallid and cold. Tiredness could be seen at those slightly bluish eyerings. Squalo had always been lean and light. But that day it was worse: it was almost as if I wasn't lifting anything on my arms. Now and then an icy wind would gush from nowhere, making the silvery mane undulate on bony shoulders, and whipping faintly at his back.

The mirror was reflecting every move we made. The ancient device was the only witness of that night's gathering. It was already out of condition – pieces of it were missing, and rust had attacked the remnants – yet it still was giving a pretty sight of both of us.

I, the vampire, kissed the human, chastely, vaguely. Squalo didn't rebuff the kiss. My hands gripped more tightly to his back when I sank to his nape. I hummed the familiar skin for a fraction of second, before pitilessly digging my fangs in.

Squalo hadn't even tensed.

One minute after I had drunk to satiety. I withdrew myself from the smaller man and remarked that he had passed out.

"Squalo…" I muttered against his ear. But from that time he hadn't said anything anymore, he hadn't moved anymore.

Hours later, a pang of doubt hurried in me as I recalled the shock I got when I saw the swordsman's actually immobile body. I looked down on him. The sight I got – the blood rushing back under the slowly turning pink skin, the softness back on the previously stone-like features – somehow reassured me.

'Wake up quickly.' Was all I could wish.

The End


End file.
